Forever
by Madame Poppoff
Summary: Sirius Black finds himself alive, alone and broken. He couldn't save his little love, his secret sin. Or could he? Sirius/Draco, Sirius/Regulus INCEST


**Hello! Me again publishing a Harry Potter fic. This goes in response to my friend Ran Mouri's requesto (almost a year after she made said request) for a Sirius/Draco fic and also mixing the idea that I sent to the Bottom!Draco fest last year of... well, you'll see. I wanted to make this story as believable as possible and I guess I went a little overboard with it. I regret nothing! **

**Hope you guys enjoy! **

Forever.

He is ten and feeling frustrated with his family when he receives the owl that will change his life forever. The bird waits long enough for him to take the scroll before hurrying away and disappearing into the sky and he is confused, more so when he realizes the scroll is quite longer than he would have expected.

He sighs and takes a seat by his window to read such a mysterious letter.

_Mr. Black, _

_You do not know me and you will most probably never meet me. My name is Dimitri Illyanovich and I currently attend Durmstrang. Attached I left a copy of my divination essay on visions during an out of body experience through all-seeing eye. I believe you might think it is all lies and I would agree with you, were I in your position, but this essay itself has kept me awake at night for months now, and through a long research I can only surmise this prediction is about you. _

_ Please, Mr. Black, heed my warnings before your life turns into a tragedy. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Dimitri Alexei Illyanovich. _

Sirius raises an eyebrow at such a message. He has heard his mother's opinions about Divination enough times to be a little bit skeptic about the whole ordeal, and that a Russian kid from Durmstrang had a vision about him while high can only make him roll his eyes. Yet, this boy seems to think it is important that he, a ten year old British pureblood know about his doomed fate, and has, for the look of it, taken all the steps to insure he gets it before it's too late.

With a shake of his head, he unrolls the parchment and starts to read the boy's essay…

Only to have it fall from his limp fingers minutes later.

He is absolutely sure this is not a prank, now, as the essay is written in flawless Russian. Also the shaky way in which the ink swirls into the parchment tells him the boy who wrote this was as equally drugged as he was frightened.

_… The dog king form the stars runs through the fields of bloodied grass while the rest of the pack rots on the ground, the queen swan trying to reach him even when her wings have been burned to the ground, his howls of despair are nothing compared to the hiss of the powerful snake… _

_… There is one the snake hold in its merciless grasp, the one the dog will always curl around, the one that delivers small licks to the dog's muzzle when they both pretend to be asleep. The one that will rise from the dead in memory and in power only to sink in despair once more. The one with the moon trapped in its eyes and the sun on its neck._

Worse still… this is really about him and his family.

There is no possible way a Russian kid in Durmstrang knows of their animagus forms, that his mother is a black swan, that he is a dog and that Regulus…

Regulus is a cat, Regulus has eyes as silver as the moon…

Regulus has a birthmark on the back of his neck shaped like an ancient sun.

Sirius falls to his knees, feeling sick.

Voldemort is going to kill his little brother and he will be powerless to stop him.

He rushes to his mother's room, not bothering to knock on the door, the letter tightly clenched on his fist. He doesn't stop to think, doesn't need to think. He knows what's been happening around their family, knows of Andromeda's banishment. Knows that Bellatrix has lost her mind and Narcissa, sweet, tiny Narcissa, has been engaged to a man almost ten years older than her.

The Black family is one of survival, he knows, of thickly veiled intrigue.

His mother stands, her eyes narrowed, silver eyes, Regulus' eyes.

"I want to be banished from the family," he says quickly, feeling the knot on his stomach tighten in response. His mother's eyes widen, her hands cover her mouth.

"Is this one of your pranks, child?" she hisses coldly. He hands her the letter soundlessly, knowing she'll reach the same conclusion he has.

She reads quickly, her pale skin paling further as she does. Sirius can see how the wheels turn in her heard and knows she understands when a chocked, almost inexistent sob of despair breaks out of her thin lips.

"It doesn't say in here whether the Dark Lord will win or lose," she whispers, trying to force sense into him. Sirius feels sorry for her, for the choice he is asking her to make.

"It does say he will harm Regulus, might even kill him," he responds softly. He doesn't want to do what he is about to, but if his mother has taught him and his brother one thing, is that they are Blacks and as Blacks they have to take tough decisions if only to protect and preserve what they love. "Mother, you told me once you would do anything for the family. I am simply asking you to do so."

"Sirius, you don't understand…" she tries.

"I do," he replies firmly. "You either banish me and show the world what a disappointment I am or we will both watch Regulus die."

Walpurga Black shakes her head and Sirius tries to commit to memory the eyes of his mother, the way her bony hands caress his hair as she embraces him. She always taught her sons to hide their only weakness, their only love so deep that no one will be able to understand that weakness. And as she has shown over the years, she has become a professional at hiding her undying love for her children. No one outside their father and themselves can tell Walpurga would do anything to keep her progeny safe.

Sirius swallows thickly, because he understands he's asking his mother to harm one of her children to keep the other alive. To put Regulus' safety before his own.

It must be ripping their mother apart.

But as his mother's love for her children will make her do anything, Sirius' love for Regulus burns even stronger. Regulus is his sweet little brother, the one that holds his hand whenever they are out, the one that snuggles into his bed when he's not there, the one that likes to study while laying his head coyly on his brother's stomach and purrs while listening to his heartbeat.

Sirius lives to hear Regulus laugh.

Walpurga takes a deep breath; most likely she's memorizing the way her son feels in her arms, just like Sirius did. They both know they won't touch each other ever again.

"What will you do?" she asks in a whisper, resting her head on top of his own.

"Gryffindor, I'm guessing," he answers tiredly, feeling foolish for wishing that moment never ends. "I have a year before I go to school; I think I can pull it off."

"Do become friends with the Potter boy," she begs, he frowns.

"Are you turning this into another political move?" he asks. She shakes her head gently.

"Once banished, you will need support from an important family, the Potters are perfect," she explains, running her fingers through his hair. "Also, I believe he will be a loyal friend to you, should you be loyal to him… it will do you good. You won't be so lonely."

Sirius closes his eyes, trying to fight the tears that are running down his cheeks. He loves his family; he adores his mother and father like they adore him. But Regulus, as always, comes first in his heart.

"I'll think about it, maybe he's not so bad," he whispers back. Walpurga nods, letting him go.

"You've always been so strong, Sirius," she says proudly. "I will always pray to the gods for your protection."

Sirius nods and feels the start of his new life when he sees his mother's eyes harden into icy steel and her hand stings as it slaps his cheek.

"You impertinent boy!" she roars. "I have told you time and time again not to enter this room without my express permission."

Sirius flinches then, not at her anger, but at the hidden heartbreak that makes a lone tear roll from her eye. His mother is suffering as much as he will.

"You old hag! I told you it was important!" he yells back, rubbing his cheek and leaving the room. "I hope you all die for this!"

Sirius goes to Regulus' room to curl around his sleeping brother while he knows Walpurga is locking herself in her room and crying her eyes out. She has lost a child, he knows. She had to give him up to save Regulus.

Regulus wakes up to stare at him as he slips under the covers. His tiny hands caress his brother's bruised cheek as his eyes, his beautiful moon eyes, turn worried and sad.

"Did you fall on your face?" he asks softly, snuggling into his older brother's body. Sirius feels only tenderness for this child, this wonderful boy who happens to be his life.

"I didn't notice the wall was there," he answers, kissing his Regulus' forehead. "Go back to sleep."

Regulus nods, wrapping arms and legs around Sirius and sighing contently into his neck.

"Silly Siry," he whispers. "I'll spell the walls to move out of the way for you."

Sirius nods, knowing quite well his little brother is quite capable of doing so, just to protect his heroic older brother. He feels tenderness and heartbreak at the same time. He knows Regulus will survive, he will bloom under his tender care, yet he also knows he will have to hurt his little brother, reject him for a while.

He must cement himself on the 'Light Side' if he wants to have a chance of saving Regulus from Voldemort.

He spends the rest of the year clinging to Regulus. Refusing to let go of his hand most of the time and foregoing his own bedroom for his little brother's. Regulus grows concerned when he notices their mother is suddenly so cold to Sirius, so openly disdainful when they are in public and the way Sirius is so melancholic nowadays.

His brother smiles sadly and tells him he is just worried and feeling homesick even before he has left for Hogwarts.

Regulus believes him.

On his first night at Hogwarts he lays down in his bed, knowing he is getting sympathetic looks from Potter and the others. They can still hear the echoes of his mother's howler and how he has been called a disgrace, a sick spawn and an irresponsible child. He has to smile knowing his mother, as always, is the perfect strategist.

Regulus sent him a letter as well, hidden, of course, from their mother's watchful eyes.

_'Is renouncing the snake a good path?' _it says simply, unsigned. Sirius closes his eyes tightly, trying to cling to the memory of his brother's gentle smile, breathing in the scent of his skin he has left on the parchment.

He grabs his quill.

_'It's the way things happened. And don't try to follow me on this; you don't have it in you.'_ He pens, instant regret and guilt pooling on his stomach as he sends the owl back. It is the first time he will reject Regulus and it feels as if his heart is being opened from the inside.

He hates it.

He hates it even more when Regulus comes to school a year later and gets sorted into Slytherin, staring broken heartedly into his back as they eat. He can't bear to turn around. He knows the moment he sees his little brother's eyes he will crumble and rush to gather him in his arms. He can't risk it.

He chose this path, he chose the suffering.

Regulus must be protected at all times

James suggests they go and prank some Slytherins and Sirius feels dread pool inside of him. He can't let them focus on his little brother. He can't let them see him. He instantly turns towards the snakes' table and roams it with his eyes. Regulus is talking to an older classmate, his eyes alight and his cheeks flushed. The other boy just stares at him impassibly and nods when appropriate.

It's been a long time since his brother smiled at anyone who is not him or their parents.

The choice has been made for him.

"What about that one?" he says with a wicked smile. "The greasy one?"

"Snape?" Peter asks, surprised. "I've heard he's a good student…"

"A bookworm," James grins.

"A-and also a very responsible character…"

"A brown noser!" Sirius beams. "Isn't he just perfect?"

James nods and grabs his arm. They start plotting what will be the most epic prank battle of their lives. He doesn't even notice when Sixth year Malfoy looks at him and shakes his golden head.

Regulus chases him out of the Slytherin dorms constantly; his eyes wide and angry, demanding to know what he is doing to his good friend Severus. Sirius feels cold fury envelope him, knowing Regulus wants to protect someone from HIM. That somehow that skinny, ugly, greasy brat managed to hold a spot in his sweet brother's heart. He won't allow it.

Severus Snape has to go away. He can't stay close to Regulus. He can't take his place.

He has to make sure Regulus won't want to get close to Snape.

Remus sneezes, rubbing his nose against the cold.

Sirius smirks.

A month of detention later he comes out of the Potion's classroom to see Regulus waiting for him. His eyes are colder than he remembers and he idly has to wonder when the last time he saw his brother in the eye was. Six years ago? Seven?

He is not sure.

"You did this on purpose," he whispers. "You tried to kill him on purpose."

"I don't know what you are talking about," he replies nonchalantly. It's the same way he has talked to James and Remus and Peter, even Headmaster Dumbledore bought his no repentant pose.

Regulus, however, just narrows his eyes.

"Don't play with me, Sirius," he spits. "I've known you my whole life; I know what you are capable of. What were you trying to accomplish by killing Sev. Did you think it would make you a hero? No, you are a Gryffindor; did you think that Sev was looking at Evans too hard? What was it, brother, why Sev?"

"Don't call him that!" Sirius snaps, eyes wide and furious. He doesn't want his brother's and Snape's deepening relationship thrown to his face.

Regulus' eyes widen.

"It was… because of me…" he says in shock. Sirius shakes his head. "You wanted him dead because he was close to me."

"Don't be stupid, Regulus," Sirius tried, feigning a laugh. Regulus takes a step back.

"You hate me so much, that you want me to die alone and unhappy? Wasn't it enough to leave our family, to rub in my face how different we now are? How worthless I am to you!" and the boy starts crying. Not in a childish way, just silent, angry tears sliding down his cheeks. Sirius feels like dying. He feels he should repent someway, he has harmed Regulus. He doesn't deserve to live.

He can't control his own body before he is besides his brother, wrapping his arms around him and crying himself.

"I don't hate you, my Reggie," he sobs. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much that I'm capable of anything just to make sure you are safe!"

"What do you…" Regulus whimpers, clinging unconsciously to his robes.

"I love you, my baby, my brother," he says hoarsely. "I never wanted to see you cry again. Mother knew, we both…" he stops. He's telling Regulus too much. He doesn't want his brother to know what has happened. The knowledge would put him in danger.

Realization dawned on Regulus' eyes so fast that Sirius cannot react before he is pushed to the ground, a wand at his throat.

"I hate you, brother," he hisses, tears still streaming down his rosy cheeks. "I hate you so much!"

"Regulus…" he says, feeling sick and cold. The boy shakes his head.

"You and mother," he snarls back. "You both think me so weak, so pathetic."

"We just want to protect you!" Sirius begs. "There is a prophecy! If I didn't do this… the Dark Lord might…"

"I don't want to hear it!" Regulus interrupts. "Don't come close to me again, Sirius, don't you ever try to rule my life for me! I don't care what stupid prophecy you have come to or what you and mother planed, but I won't be your puppet anymore! I am no doll!"

With a well-placed curse and a roar, Regulus leaves him alone.

Sirius will pretend the tears that roll down his face that night are more of humiliation than of heart-break.

Regulus doesn't look at him again that year.

"At first I believed your punishment had been light," Snape says as he passes him on his way to class one day the following year.

Sirius stops in his tracks, frozen.

"What do you mean?" he growls, not turning. How he hates the other young man, how he wishes Remus had done as he had planned and killed the disgusting creature.

Snape crosses his arms over his chest, a small, malevolent smile on his face.

"When I realized my run-in with Lupin was your doing, I asked the Headmaster for your expulsion. When he refused, I believed it was his favoritism showing once more," he explained simply, shrugging. "Now, however, I can see he is letting you live with your regrets, to an extent so deep even he doesn't realize it."

"My regrets?" he laughs, an ugly sound his friends would have trouble associating with him. The Slytherin nods.

"By harming me, you exposed yourself to your own twisted mind," he replied. "By remaining here you face the consequences of your actions every single day."

Sirius frowns uncomfortably.

"I don't know what you are talking about," he snaps.

"I believe you do," Snape smirks. "You lost him that day, Black, you lost the one person that meant the world to you."

"Is that what you think, Snivellus?" he says, feeling defensive. The other boy nods once more, eyes hard.

"Don't try to fool me like you fool those imbeciles you call friends," he shrugs. "I observe everyone around me, I learn their secrets until they become my own. You love that boy more than you can possibly say. In a way no pure-blooded family might forgive. In a way so sick that you have been hiding it even from yourself."

"Wha-?"

"You know now," Snape interrupted. "It was the reason you targeted me over any other Slytherin you claim to hate. And it's the reason he won't take you back. You don't want your brother's prideful gaze upon you, you want his adoration…"

"Stop…" Sirius hisses, his eyes wide as the Slytherin's words finally make sense into your mind with their steely truth.

"You want his sweet eyes to see only you," the other continues cruelly. "You want his pink lips on yours, his hands caressing your skin, his skin under yours in passion."

"STOP!" he screams. "Stop those stupid lies, Snivellus! You don't know what you are talking about! I don't know what gave you those sick ideas but you are wrong!"

"Am I?" Severus raises an eyebrow. "I wanted to kill you for what you did to me, for what you took from me, but I guess seeing you every day, following your brother around with those sick eyes of yours, knowing it was your own doing that forever took him away from you is more than enough retribution for me."

With a small nod, Snape leaves him alone and shaking, unsure of what to do now that an enemy has showed him all the ugly, disgusting things about himself that he has tried to hide for years.

He spends the rest of his schooling devouring every book on Dark Arts he can get his hands on, learning each and every trick the Dark Wizards use to defend themselves. He will be the ultimate Auror, the ultimate exterminator.

He will be ready the next time he crosses paths with Severus Snape. He will kill the Dark Lord before he can kill Regulus.

Yes, his brother might hate him forever.

Yes, his love for his little Regulus can be sick and disgusting.

But while Regulus lives in this world, while he breaths and grows and blooms under the sun, he will have a drive, a reason to go on.

Mad Eye Moody congratulates him daily as he and James train to become Aurors, he can see a kindred spirit in the young Black boy, he tells Kingsley. He can see the hatred for the dark burning in those eyes and wants to nurture it.

He goes with Sirius to every single assignment, telling his young charge all he knows about the Death Eaters and their usual tactics, fatherly pride bright in his eyes.

It is only a matter of time he is let down in the worst possible way.

The Aurors found a Death Eater hideout and are surrounding the perimeter when Sirius smells the scent of cat hair and moon dust. Instantly his heart pummels to his stomach in dread and he is raising his hand, offering to be the first one in. He is an animagus, he tells Moody, and he can go inside undercover.

Moody nods with a small smirk and tells the rest of the team. Sirius is thankful James will not be there to see how his eyes shift and his pose tenses. His best friend would give him away, but James is at home, holding Lily's hand as she gives birth to their firstborn.

He enters the small cottage with a slow growl, scenting the air for any threat. The Death Eaters are sitting on the dining room, scheming. All wear their usual dark robes and masks, not one trusts the other to reveal their faces. Sirius traces their frames with his eyes.

One of them grows tense, his hand clench unperceptively before he takes his wand and drums it on the table.

"Shall we call this meeting over?" he asks with a dark smile. "The Dark Lord will be pleased with our progress."

Another Death Eater, a woman, seems to want to protest, but another man grabs her arm and nods to the smaller Death Eater.

"We shall meet at the appointed place next time," he says gravely. Sirius instantly recognizes Malfoy's voice and the royal sculpting of his chin.

Three of the four Death Eaters apparated away while the fourth shakes his head.

"Come out," he says to the air. "They heard you come in even before you made it through the door."

With dexterous hands the Death Eater removes his hood and mask, silver eyes glaring daggers at the black dog currently peeking from behind the couch.

Sirius morphs back, eyes wide.

"You are a Death Eater," he whispers brokenly.

"It is the path I chose," Regulus replies, an eyebrow raised. "Just as you chose to oppose our family and become an Auror, mother is still in distress, or so I've heard."

The fact that Regulus has no contact with their parents is not news to Sirius. His mother has told him, distress in her old eyes, that Regulus has rejected them as well. He frowns.

"Why?" he asks, fists clenched.

"Why?" Regulus repeats, arms crossing over his chest in a gesture so like Snape that Sirius has to flinch. Too close, those two are, even to this day.

"How could you join that madman," Sirius says as he walks closer to his younger brother, the reason he still breaths. "You don't know what he can do."

"Oh, I do know it, brother," Regulus answers. "It is the main reason I decided to put myself under his service."

"Regulus," Sirius whimpers. "You don't know what you have done. After all this years you just…"

"I just what?" the younger man asks. "Threw everything you and mother sacrificed away?" There is scorn in his voice, so cold Sirius almost cannot recognize the sweet boy he fell in love with for the ruthless killer that he is facing.

"Mother told you about the prophesy," Sirius whispers in shock. "She told you."

"The day I left Hogwarts, yes," Regulus replies, eyebrow raised. "She wanted me to stay away from Malfoy and the others, she believed their influence would eventually bring the prophesy to life."

"Then why, Regulus!" his older brother screams. "Why would you still do it! Why become a Death Eater when you know mother and I have spent all this years working to prevent it! You don't understand what is at stake here!"

Regulus shakes his head, his eyes cold.

"Oh, Sirius," he muses. "My poor martyr of a bother, it's you who doesn't understand."

"What?" Sirius asks, eyes wide.

"You took the side of the light, playing the rebel, the estranged child. Should the Dark Lord fall you would take me aside, plead for my life," he sneers. "The Auror Hero begging for his younger, misguided little brother, didn't you? That's what you and mother have been planning all along."

Sirius feels cold and insignificant under his little Regulus', his little love's stare. How come that even if they've spent so many years apart, so many tortuous years without each other, he can tell what Sirius is thinking just by looking at him? Is so deep their bond? So powerful their blood?

Something in Regulus' quicksilver eyes seems to shatter as he looks away, his shoulders losing their tenseness.

"You sacrificed your whole life, your future, for me," he says finally. "Because you want to save me when Voldemort dies."

Sirius nods slowly.

"But you never stopped to think about yourself," Regulus whispers. "Someone has to save you, should the Dark Lord win."

It feels as if the floor disappeared from under Sirius' feet.

"W… what?" he gasps.

"You and mother sacrificed everything to prepare for the day the light side wins the war," his little treasure says finally. "Father and I have prepared for the day the dark side does. I will plead for your life, you will be spared."

Suddenly Regulus' eyes are on him again, so sincere and beautiful, so light after so many years. A small eternity passes between them before Sirius realizes his little brother, his sweet, kind little brother, the one that ignites passion within him like no other is right there, in front of him.

It seems Regulus' mask is far better than his own.

"This time, Siri, I will be the one to protect you from the shadows," he says with finality. "Because I love you, and I want your happiness more than I can care for my own."

Sirius can't react as Regulus' apparates away, his knees touch the floor as a ragged scream of despair is ripped from his throat.

Regulus is mirroring his own actions.

Sirius the Auror of the light.

Regulus the soldier of the dark.

Both fighting the war to protect the other.

So cruelly alike, the Black siblings are.

He feeds Moody a ridiculous lie about been stunned by a Death Eater when he tried to stop them from apparating away. Ten of them, he reports, instead of four. All with European accents. None British.

Moody pats him on the shoulder while he tries to come to terms with this sudden urgency that fills him now. The Dark Lord needs to die and he needs to die now.

He pastes on an even faker and wider smile when James names him his child's godfather and pretends to see Regulus when he plays with little Harry. He needs a distraction or he will go insane. He needs to ignore the fact that every single time an Auror kills a Death Eater, it could be his little Reggie dying, he needs to stop thinking that every time a dementor kisses one of the bastards, his beautiful baby brother could be next.

He tries so hard to pretend he is happy with the life he leads that the world disappears around him and everything but James and Lily and Remus and Harry and Peter seems to blur.

He can't see a thing as he chases Peter across town, he can't stop to think, thinking is bad, thinking will make him go mad.

He screams and shrieks in a way that would have made his mother proud as Aurors, his own co-workers, drag him to Azkaban, looks of disgust in their faces as he is informed the evidence against him is conclusive and that he should be ashamed of himself, the Potters trusted him.

From another cell, Bellatrix laughs hysterically, welcoming him into the family reunion.

"HARRY!" he screams. But it is another name he wants to cry.

Another beautiful creature he needs to protect.

Days and nights pass through him in an endless array of dementors and torture and despair, not knowing what has happened to the outside world. To Harry, to Regulus. His eyes roam the hallways every time a new prisoner is brought and his heart beats in relief whenever he sees it's not Regulus. Never Regulus.

He has heard the news, of course. Some of the oldest and most powerful families escaped Azkaban under the pretense to have been under the Imperius curse the whole time. He knows his Regulus is a crafty young man, he knows he can pull it off.

There is no other alternative acceptable to him.

He spends most of his time staring at himself in the reflection cast by his own metal bars. Removing each and every single white hair that sprouts on his head. He needs to look young and presentable when he sees his Regulus again. He needs to be young and strong for Harry.

One day, he is not sure how many years later, a Patronus enters his cell.

A kitten.

Sirius' eyes fill with tears at the sight.

"Si…rius…" the kitten hisses, his voice so weak Sirius can barely hear it.

"Regulus," he whimpers back, his hands aching to touch the spell, willing it to be his brother's fur and not the misty magic it actually is.

"Ha…rry… is… in… dan… ger…" the kitten says then, ears lowered and pity and sadness coming out of its ghostly form.

"What? Harry?"

"Co…llar…" the kitten continues, moving its neck to reveal the dark leather collar around its neck. "Port… key…"

Sirius wants to grin, to yell and laugh at the same time. Only his brother, with his extensive knowledge of the dark arts, can pull something as wonderful as this. With shaky fingers he reaches for the small collar, feeling the pulling of the portkey the moment his fingers make contact with the leather.

A rush of stale air makes it to his lungs as he lands on his side on the dusty wooden floor. He doesn't need to open his eyes to know where he is. He has laid on this floor so many times already. Studying in front of the fireplace, reading epic stories out loud for his brother's entertainment, snuggling against Regulus after a long day playing outside.

A tear makes his way down his dirty cheek.

He is home.

The decay and dirt indicate no one has been around for a long time, which sets a bad, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Regulus?" he calls, shaking his head.

"There is no Regulus here, Sirius," his mother's voice calls softly. His eyes grow wide and his trembling hands relax for a second before turning to fists as he realizes it is not his mother he is seeing but his mother's portrait staring at him with mournful silver eyes.

"Mother?" he asks. "What happened here? Where's everyone?"

His mother shakes her head, oil colored tears streaming down her artfully painted cheeks.

"Your father started looking for Regulus after you were sent to Azkaban and the Aurors found him poking were he shouldn't. He got The Kiss," she explains. "I received a visit not soon after, that Mad Eye Moody man."

"Moody?" he asks.

His mother nods.

"He said you were unlikely to ever leave Azkaban and that the Ministry had declared Regulus… that Regulus.."

"What…" Sirius gasps. "What happened to Regulus!"

"He's dead!" she finally bursts. "Just s that prophesy stated! He is dead!"

The word lost its footing at that moment. Sirius' eyes fill with tears and his mouth opens and closes in a silent scream. There is nothing for him anymore.

Regulus is dead.

It is Albus Dumbledore who finds him hours later, curled under his mother's portrait like a child, sobbing as he tried to hold to the last vestiges of his sanity.

"Oh, poor boy," he says gently, running an aged hand over his long and unkempt hair.

"Leave me alone," he snaps. "Voldemort's gone… he took my Regulus with him."

"There is still so much for you to go on," Dumbledore says then, eyes full of pity. "Harry is still out there, he needs you, Sirius."

A spark suddenly glints inside of the dark void that is his mind.

Harry.

Yes, Regulus' weak Patronus mentioned Harry, it mentioned danger as well.

Has his Regulus' soul being watching over Harry since Sirius couldn't?

He listens as the old Headmaster – so much older than he remembered, so close to death, he seems – tells him about the life Harry's had the last few years. The dangers he has faced. The risks.

Oh, sweet, sweet Harry.

He couldn't protect Regulus from that twice damned Dark Lord.

He is going to save Harry though.

His life starts again as soon as he sets his sight into Harry's anguished green eyes.

He has a new mission, a new drive.

Harry has to live and bloom.

Because Regulus' didn't.

The end comes soon for him, however, as he chases Bella and tries with all his might to protect the children from her deranged cruelty. Curses fly by him and he dodges them as he always had. Harry is winning, he can tell. Harry is so skilled, so much like his father and mother.

Something catches his attention and suddenly a hex of his own cousin is hitting him and he is falling, falling so slowly into the darkness and he can only hear Harry's desperate shrieks and think that he will be fine.

He has people willing to protect him with their lives like him.

He closes his eyes.

Regulus is waiting for him at the other side, he thinks.

And lets go.

Inside the veil he floats, eyes closed, wondering about time and space.

There is nothing there, in that sea of tranquil oblivion. Nothing can make its way in here, not even death, he knows. Because his heart is still beating and his soul seems to be stuck. He wonders about suicide for a while before dismissing the idea. It wouldn't work.

He spends minutes in there, hours, centuries?

He is not sure.

But he hears a soft mewl in the darkness and opens his eyes just a little to see the glittering white form of a Patronus.

A cat.

"Can you move?" it asks, head tilting.

He nods.

"Follow me, just a little," it says, paw signaling.

He does, afraid to hope once more.

Around him something silver and old sneaks and coils. An enormous chain is winding around him, aided by the ghostly figure, runes line the steel in a language he hardly recognizes.

He has seen this chain in books, of course, and he instantly grasps it tightly in his fist.

"It's the chain the Norse gods used to tie the terrible Fenrir with," the cat says, nodding to him. "Nothing can break it, nothing can stop it. Hold on tight."

He does, closing his eyes against the tingling of the magic around him. The nothing-ness of the veil, the void, is trying to hold him there, to swallow him up whole while the sacred chain keeps tugging him in another direction. Trying to get him out.

A rift of light is before him, voices are screaming.

"PULL!" a voice yells. "Just a little bit more!"

"Stop!" a female voice shrieks. "You are bleeding!"

"Shut up, Daphne!" a male replies. "Theo! Hold onto me! Just a little bit more!"

A sharp tug at his hand has Sirius crossing the rift into the darkened halls of the Ministry, a burst of oxygen fills his lungs and he has to gasp and gag, wondering when was the last time he actually took a breath. A mediwitch is by his side in seconds, he has never seen her before but her robes hold the emblem of St Mungo's and she whispers diagnostic spells he has heard all his life.

Some men are sitting on the stone floor, their hands bloody and scorched, steel marks all over their skins. They were the ones pulling him from the veil? He feels like weeping.

So young, so courageous.

The mediwitch declares him mostly healthy, though dehydrated and exhausted and then a young man is placing a warm robe over his shoulders. The expensive fabric feels so good over his skin that he can't help but close his eyes at the silent pleasure of such comfort.

His parched lips open for a moment to thank the man and his companions, but the words die inside his throat.

Wide silver eyes are staring back at him with worry, pale cheeks are sweaty, streaked with blood.

Sirius' eyes fill with tears for a moment. Regulus has come for him at last. It is his little brother, his treasure, that has saved him from the horrible nothingness of the void.

One of the other men stands suddenly, placing a bloody hand over Regulus' shoulder.

"Daphne is healing us all," he says softly, slow gasps cutting his words. "You go as well, Draco."

The young man nods, his own bloody hands running over his silvery blond hair and staining it in red.

Sirius' eye are wide.

"… Draco…" he asks.

The blond nods.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, you are safe with us," he says. "Welcome back to the world of the living, cousin Sirius." And a small, secretive smile lifts his thin lips gently.

Narcissa's little spawn, he remembers him well. He made Harry's life a living hell when they were boys.

But those eyes, those lips, that elegant nose.

Slowly he rests his head on the young man's lap and closes his eyes. Blessed Diana, he even smells the same, like herbs and rain and a light touch of male.

A small, contented smile of his own marks his face as his body finally gives out in exhaustion and a different, more welcomed kind of oblivion embraces him.

He dreams of green grass and sunshine and his own puppy-ish paws tripping over the flowers while a black kitten cuddles him for a nap.

He wakes up in Saint Mungo's – it's been a week, the nurse says – and Harry is sitting by his bedside, looking tired and sleep deprived. He tells Sirius that he came as soon as he heard and that he has only left his godfather's side while speaking to the Minister himself to plead for the Slytherins.

"They went to trial over this," he tells him. "Can you believe it? They risk their lives to save you and the Ministry wanted to send them to Azkaban!"

"They did enter the Department of Mysteries without proper clearance and performed a Forbidden curse, Harry," Hermione comments softly, sitting by the window. She has a small smile on her face and a load of parchment in her lap. Alternative treatment for his legs, she will explain later, as he has not used them for over fifteen years.

"Malfoy and his companions…" Sirius asks, uncertain. Harry nods, small tears rolling down his masculine face. So long ago, it seems, he was just a boy with hurt eyes. Now he is a man, the living image of his late father, so strong.

Sirius feels fatherly pride swell in him.

"They said they wanted to repay all debts they owed to me," Harry says, running a calloused hand over Sirius's arm, almost as if to reassure himself he is there. "At least Malfoy did. The other I guess just followed him, as usual."

He then proceeds to tell Sirius about the war, all that happened and who died.

He shakes his head silently as he hears Remus is dead, silently praying to merciful Niahm to keep his friend in her embrace as the warrior he was.

He also prays for Snape and mentally thanks the man whose life he made sure to destroy for being there for Harry when he couldn't. A part of him is jealous that, in the end, it was Snape who fulfilled the role Sirius was ready to play, but he is also secretly happy that he gets to live and see the man Harry has become, to enjoy the life fate seemed to want to steal from him.

He feels blessed.

He listens to Harry's tale of the last ten years, of his job as an Auror and how he has two wonderful sons with his wife. His James Sirius and his Albus Severus. Sirius wants to cry, knowing Harry wanted to honor him in such a way. He gasps in surprise when he finds out Kingsley Shacklebolts is the current Minister for Magic and that the world has slowly shifted in a new muggle-friendly view that the new generation is slowly bringing to life.

"Muggle-friendly, pure-blood unfriendly," a voice calls with sarcastic cheer. Harry scowls good-naturedly and Hermione's eyes grow suddenly frigid. Sirius feels his blood run cold and his eyes instantly fix on the young man standing by the doorway, head wrapped in bandages and arm held in a sling.

"Hey, Malfoy," Harry greets, shaking his head. "The mediwizards let you leave?"

"Obviously," the man, Draco Malfoy, says, his eyes fixed on Sirius' own. "I trust you are feeling well, cousin Sirius?" the word 'cousin' curls in the man's lips with barely restrained mirth, as if it was a ridiculously amusing joke that only he understands. Sirius can't help but smile a little back.

"As well as expected, Cousin Draco," he replies, and something warm and infinitely small settles on his chest when those amused eyes light up even further. There is something in this young man that draws him like a moth.

"I am pleased to hear it," Draco nods, barely sparing Hermione a glance before sitting quite elegantly by Harry's side. "And you, Potter? Feeling happy with our little birthday present?"

"More than words can say, Malfoy," Harry says, holding Sirius' hand on his own. "Life debts aside, this is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me… I… there are no words…"

"Then you must stop trying to express it, Potter," Draco mocks. "Save me the Gryffindor gratitude. We are even now and that has to be enough."

"Okay," Harry agrees sheepishly.

"Cousin Sirius," Draco begins then. "Mother has asked me to extend an invitation for you to the Malfoy Manor. So very little Blacks left, she said, that they must stick together. Her and Aunt Andromeda are eager to meet you sometime."

"So, Cissy and Andy made up," Sirius nods, a small smile on his face.

"After dear Aunt Bellatrix was out of the way to rat them out, of course they were," Draco answers, a small smile of his own curling his lips.

"Draco! We let you go see your family! Not so you could sneak out and bother other patients!" A mediwitch growls at the young man from the doorway. It is the same young woman that helped Malfoy and his companions save Sirius from the veil, he remembers, an her tender blue eyes never leave Draco's amused silver ones.

"Daphne, dearest, cousin Sirius IS family, if you recall," he explains, patting Sirius' knee condescendingly. "And you know mother would never forgive me if I forgot that fact."

"Of course, your mother," the woman says, pushing a strand of her long blond hair behind her ears with a careless gesture before grabbing hold of the young man's healthy arm. "Now, go home, you know my sister and little nephew would never forgive me if they knew I let you overstay your welcome in Saint Mungo's."

"So dramatic, Daphne," Draco mutters with a fond smile.

Hermione raises an eyebrow.

Harry grins at the Slytherins' friendly but overly-worded banter.

Sirius blinks.

"Nephew?" he asks.

"Oh, yes," Draco says distractedly while fishing in his robe pocket for a small leather-bound book. "Mother asked me to hand you this, she wasn't quite sure you would take it from her, of course."

Sirius takes the book and opens it curiously. It is a hollopicture album and he grins when Narcissa's and Andromeda's faces grin at him from the first page, arms around each other, happily waving at the camera.

The next picture is of Draco and a young teenager who looks at him for a moment before mimicking his stoic expression, his honey-colored hair slowly turning silver and his sunny eyes going silver in mimicry.

"That's Remus' and Tonks' son, Teddy," Harry points out proudly. "My godson."

"I can't believe Moony became a father," Sirius whispers, staring fondly at the picture. Another page, curiously titled: 'Black family reunion' shows Andromeda and Narcissa sitting under an enormous-looking tree, Draco and Teddy standing behind them.

A sleepy-looking toddler is resting on Draco's hip, his blond head resting gently on his shoulder.

"And that would be my son, Scorpius," Draco comments, a tender smile pulling at his lips.

Harry and Sirius stare at the toddler with undisguised wonder.

"He is about Albus' age, isn't he?" Harry asks, pointing. A wicked glint lights Draco's eyes.

"More or less," he says. "I'm guessing they will start Hogwarts at the same time."

Sirius ignores the fatherly conversation going around him as he stares at the picture. Obviously after the war the remaining Blacks decided to get together and cherish what little family they had left. It fills him with indescribable sadness that only these two women and their off-springs are the ones remaining.

His mother would have wanted him to save more of their relatives during the war.

More Blacks to survive the wrath of Voldemort.

In the picture, the blond toddler turns to the camera for a moment, wide dark eyes staring at it in wonder before hiding his round face on his father's neck.

Sirius grins.

Poor little boy, he looks nothing like the rest of the family.

Daphne insists Draco must go home or her sister will skin her alive and the young man laughs and accepts, if only to save his sister-in-law from an early demise. He bids Harry goodbye once more – completely ignoring Hermione, just as the young woman does – before placing a warm hand on Sirius' knee.

"We'll be waiting for your visit, cousin Sirius," he says with a small, secretive smile.

Sirius stares at him as he leaves with the mediwitch, trying to let go of the lingering warmth of that hand on his leg, of those eyes that seem to read him over and over again.

"The new Mrs. Malfoy seems to be the jealous type," he says finally, only to earn a cold snort from Hermione.

"Please, that's an arranged marriage if I've ever seen one," she says. "Malfoy and his wife don't love eachother."

"Still they are good friends, Hermione," Harry sighs, and Sirius can guess they've had that conversation more than once. "They have a child together and are friendly with eachother, what else can they ask for?"

"Love, for example?" Hermione sighs. "I still can't believe after all these years that the pure-blooded community insists on marrying off their children to people they've never met. It's so insane."

Harry retorts with a small whine and Sirius ignores their discussion in lieu of staring at the rest of the photos in his hands. He refuses to comment how his parents had an arranged marriage as well and were the most loving couple he has ever seen in his life.

He knows somethings are difficult for outsiders to understand, just as his mother used to say.

Winter grows into spring by the time he is well enough to stand and walk on his own. By then most of the surviving Order of the Phoenix has visited him, plus a teary eyed Narcissa and a sobbing Andromeda, both wrapping him in their arms and commenting on how young and healthy he looks and how time seems to have stopped for him.

He smiles gratefully at them as they fill him on the status of his home, how Narcissa keeps the portrait of his parents, now that Harry managed to rip Mr. and Mrs. Blacks portraits from Grimauld Place.

"They are a delight to have around," Narcissa explains with a careful smile. "Though of course I believe they should live with you, they have been so anxious to see you since they heard you were alive, your mother almost ruined her own oil painting with so much crying."

Sirius nods, not at all surprised his cousins are in on the whole hateful Mrs. Black charade.

Whenever Narcissa visits him she brings Draco with her, and the young man is pleasant but polite as he accompanies his mother. Sometimes he brings his wife, Astoria – appearances sakes, they explain with a conniving smile – and some others he brings his son, Scorpius.

Sirius stares in awe as the young Regulus look-alike carefully tends to his five year-old son, how he entertains the boy when visiting and older relative at the hospital becomes too dull for him. He usually runs his fingers over the boy's blond hair and laughs when the boy scowls at Sirius and refuses to meet his eyes.

Sirius stares at the boy's face for a moment and compares it with his mother's and father's, wondering whether Astoria was unfaithful and Draco was too ashamed to admit it, or whether it was Draco himself who cheated on his wife and they both pretend not to notice how the little boy looks nothing like them, from his dark, almost black eyes to his crooked nose, he is so very not the beautiful child that the Malfoy and Black bloodlines should produce.

One day, Draco catches Sirius staring at his son and smiles ruefully at him.

"Astoria's grandmother's nose, I'm afraid," he explains, and something sad fills his eyes.

Sirius feels a hole ripping his insides as he stares at his young cousin. Those eyes of his should never be sorrowful. Regulus' eyes are not made for sadness.

He finds himself staring at Draco more and more whenever they meet. Harry thinks it's cute that he feels so grateful to his savior. Hermione frowns and mutters under her breath. Narcissa and Andromeda whisper to eachother every time they catch him, slowly shaking their heads.

Astoria gracefully winks at him and fawns over her handsome husband, if only he had been born the opposite gender, he would be so perfect for her, she says over and over, only to earn a playful slap on the shoulder from Draco and a muttered commentary of what an ugly boy she would make herself.

Sirius finally understands why the youngest Malfoy couple cannot love eachother.

He finds himself grinning.

Life for Sirius Black becomes a new blur of spending time with his remaining family and walking the hallways of Grimauld Place.

Kreacher sometimes follows him around cautiously, his eyes and ears downcast. The old elf has apologized to him over and over to the point of becoming an annoyance, but Sirius refuses to get rid of him, maybe out of spite, as he knows Kreacher would be happier taking care of Harry's little family as he had been previously doing, or even at Malfoy Manor, where he sometimes visits.

He won't ever forgive the elf for his words.

"Kreacher understands he did wrong, Master Sirius," the elf said the moment they found themselves alone for the first time. "Kreacher was so angry, so very angry."

"You almost got me killed, Kreacher," Sirius deadpanned, eyes set on the mantelpiece where the last picture ever taken of his brother resides. How empty the house seems now, how lonely.

"Kreacher knows that," the old elf replied. "But Kreacher felt so angry and betrayed. Master Sirius came back to the house while Master Regulus didn't and…"

The elf continued to rant on and on how much he missed young master Regulus. How sweet Master Regulus was the only one that actually loved Kreacher and how he misses him, how it will never be the same without master Regulus.

Sirius stopped listening five minutes in and will continue to do so every time the elf starts bemoaning the loss of his favorite Master. He doesn't want to listen to someone else crying over Regulus.

He doesn't want to remember that he is alive while Regulus is dead.

He just wants to sleep in Regulus' bed and surround himself with his beloved brother's scent and pretend for a moment that all that forbidden passion, the poisonous love he harbored for his little one was accepted and even cherished by him.

That he will not have only his imagination to live by from now on.

He dreams of Regulus every night, of his sweet lips meeting his own, of his skin under him. Of the passion he could see burning in his eyes, the passion he is now sure they both felt for one another slowly engulfing him whole.

He wakes up every morning panting, aroused and feeling miserable.

Idly he wonders if being alive is really a blessing and not a curse.

Life without Regulus is so empty and meaningless he often wishes Bellatrix had killed him instead. Harry tries to make him an active part of his life but it's been such a long time. And the awkward looks Ginevra sends his way are even more annoying than the shifty eyes she gives Harry. Sirius can tell they haven't slept together for months and that it is only a matter of time before they split.

He tries to smile and be an encouraging godfather, but he knows he is failing miserably whenever Molly or Arthur huff and shake their heads. He is a bad example for Harry, they think, him and his twisted upbringing and secrets.

He regrets telling them about his real family life now, because they know what actually goes inside of Sirius' brain whenever Draco Malfoy, Potion Master extraordinaire is around them.

That's another thing.

Draco seems to be involved in most if not all aspects of his life now. He visits with his mother, he helps Harry and Ron with cases involving Potions and malicious poisons. He spends time with Teddy, who adores him, and even Kreacher seems to follow him around with that wide eyed adoration that makes Sirius stomach turn.

Sirius always finds himself following the young man with his eyes, feeling more and more aroused whenever he smiles a little shyly and rubs the back of his neck with a pale, so pale, so delicate, hand.

He starts to imagine the young man in the nude and is pleasantly shocked to realize he must have the same lean muscled frame his little Regulus had.

His lust grows daily, and so does his shame.

He swore his love and attention would only be Regulus', that his life would be dedicated to Regulus alone. Yet, here he is, alive and lonely, oh, so lonely, lusting after a boy half his age, the living, breathing image of his beloved little brother.

He weeps whenever he thinks about it, begs his Regulus for forgiveness.

It is during a stormy evening that suddenly everything changes.

He is sitting by the fireplace, still holding Regulus' picture and caressing it with his fingers when the fire flares green and a hagard looking child steps through. His dark eyes wonder over the living room, his hair is in disarray, sooty hair, almost black.

"Scorpius?" he asks, standing up.

The little boy looks up then, his eyes wide.

"Black," the child whispers, trembling. "It is you, Black."

There is something in that voice, something achingly familiar in the way the little boy's eyes regard him, the way his crooked nose twitches with distaste. Almost like the past he has been trying to leave behind since he found himself alive once more.

"Scorpius!" Another voice calls and Sirius sees Draco come out of the fireplace, instantly gathering the boy in his arms and rocking him back and forth. "Breath, please, calm down!"

"What on Merlin's name happened to me!" Scorpius shrieks, his childish voice breaking as his small hands clutch his father's shirt.

"Shh," Draco sooths. "Close your eyes, little one. Everything will be okay. I promise."

The child slowly closes his eyes, breathing, his small head lays on Draco's shoulder for a moment.

"Why did you do this to me," the child whispers as he slowly falls asleep. Draco shakes his head, his eyes full of despair.

"Because I love you," he replies once the boy falls asleep. "I'm so sorry."

"Draco?" Sirius asks uncertainly. "That's…"

Draco looks at him for the first time since his unexpected entrance and lets a shaky sigh leave his lips. He looks defeated and small then, as if knowing he will lose something infinitely precious that day.

"There was no other way…" he tried to explain as he lays the sleeping child on the sofa. "The stasis spell was running off, we had no cure for that snake's poison! If only I could have more time!"

"What have you done…" Sirius says in shock, unable to believe what he has just seen, what his mind tells him is the only explanation.

Draco sits by his son's side, his hand caressing the messy hair, spreading the black soot on the golden locks and unknowingly making the boy look even more like a ghost from the past.

"It was just as the final battle was being fought," he says finally and begins a tale too unbelievable. He tells Sirius how he was running from the Death Eaters, looking for his parents. How he came upon the older wizard laying in a pool of his own blood. How something inside of him broke at the sight and an urging so powerful, so ancient, made him fall to his knees to check on him.

How he found a pulse, weak, but still there on the man's wrist and that the urge grew stronger inside of him to save this man, this wonderful man that had taken care of him his whole life.

How a stasis spell had spilled form his lips without his knowledge and how his weakened magic had responded nonetheless, trapping the man, stopping his death.

He needed time to find an antidote, time to protect what little family he had left.

He told Sirius how the House Elves from Malfoy Manor had responded to his frantic calls and had taken the then frozen man into the Manor's dungeons, ready to care for him until their young master came out with a cure. How his wounds have been cured, how he had healed, but how they could not take off the stasis because the poison would surely kill him despite their best efforts.

He told him how the stasis spell was running out, how its power could not hold the man in a frozen hope any longer and how Draco, desperate and fearful, had raided his family's library in search for an antidote, a cure, a miracle, anything that would give him enough time to save his godfather.

"I found an old, battered book inside my mother's chambers, a book that could revert time and give me enough time to find a cure, one that would allow him to live a new life, a better one! I just had to do it, I had to save him!" he tells Sirius as he runs shaky hands over his own silver-colored hair. "Astoria and I took him to France. Sabbatical year, we told everyone, an extended honeymoon. No one batted an eye when we came back with a baby."

It suddenly makes sense to Sirius all what he has tried to ignore all this time.

The crooked nose, the too-dark eyes, the instant dislike the little boy has for him. How he usually hides behind his parents whenever he is in the room and the tantrums the child will throw every single time his beloved father is too close to him.

Severus Snape is alive.

Severus Snape is the next Malfoy heir, currently sleeping off in his living room.

"He has attacks sometimes," Draco murmurs. "Has nightmares and wakes up calling for Dumbledore, but he forgets about them instantly. It has never been this bad. The spellbook said I had to keep him away from things that reminded him of his past, things that would upset him, but it's so difficult with Potter's face plastered all over the wizarding world."

Sirius looks at Draco, at his elegant nose, his wide silver eyes and pale, oh, so pale skin. The way he rubs the back of his neck when he feels nervous or how his eyes crinkle when he laughs.

"You said you found the spell on your mother's chambers," he whispers breathlessly, eyes fixed on the soot on Draco's pale hair, trying to imagine if that gorgeous hair suddenly turned completely black.

Draco nods.

"Mother never realized that I took it from her," he says. "She has always forbidden me to go into her personal bookshelves, says there are many secrets of the Black family I'm not ready for."

Sirius feels something cool and wet make its way down his face, a tear, he realizes, then another.

"Oh, sweet Morrigan," he says, feeling his heart constrict inside his ribcage. Does he dare to hope? There is no other explanation, surely no miracle this wonderful can happen to him, damned soul he is.

Yet…

"Sirius?" Draco asks, frowning in concern.

"Kreacher," Sirius calls, his lips trembling frantically. The old elf appears before him with a small vow, his eyes instantly going to the Young Lord Malfoy and his worried expression.

"Y… Master Sirius called?" The elf says, nervously trying to avoid looking at the young blond man. Sirius closes his eyes for a moment, his whole body shivering madly.

"Kreacher, something is wrong with Master Sirius," Draco says, biting his lower lip.

"Young Master Draco?" Kreacher asks, trying not to look at him.

It's all the confirmation Sirius needs.

In seconds he has pulled Draco to him by the wrist, both men falling to their knees on the carpet. Sirius hands run over Draco's hair, his cheeks, his shoulders. He is staring at everything he can, memorizing each and every angle of that beloved face, comparing with his blurred memories and finding no flaw.

"Sirius…" Draco whispers in shock, but he cannot say another word, because Sirius' lips are on his, his choked sobs fussing into his mouth as the older man pours every ounce of passion he has kept for this man, this beautiful, wonderful, perfect man before him.

Decades of longing and aching and despair are melted into a kiss that says everything and keeps nothing while Kreacher stares at them both with wide, tender eyes.

He knows about the spell then, he read it during his youth under his mother's instruction. The one spell Cassiopeia Black developed almost five hundred years in the past. The Second-Chance spell that is taught to use only on emergencies and only by those of Black blood. The spell that reverts time and gives the affected a second chance to live when faced with certain death.

The one spell that can only be broken by a single sentence. One that the affected has to avoid at all costs should he return to his or her original self.

Sirius leans back, stares into Draco's shocked silver eyes and smiles tremulously.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," he whispers reverently, the palm of his hand caressing his cheek.

Draconis Malfoy's eyes grow wide, his mouth opens in a voiceless exclamation as the bloody runes Sirius had to learn by heart suddenly appear on his forehead, flaring brightly as they release over twenty years of repressed magic. Mercury-like droplets drain like water from the blond hair, leaving behind ebony black locks, and pale pink lips turn blue for a second.

The young man lurches forward, coughing violently, pale hands clutching at the slender throat for air.

Sirius wraps his arms around the heaving shoulders, his hands running over dark hair as he whispers sweet words into the pale ears.

"It's ok," he says. "It's over, we are free, my little one, it's all over, my love."

The coughing slowly subsides, and a panting head is laid on Sirius' shoulder while silver eyes stare at pale hands.

"I told Kreacher to run," a hoarse voice whispers in an painfully familiar way. "Yet, he came back, and he brought Cissy with him. She started casting before I could stop her. Don't worry, Regulus, she said, I'll protect you now."

"She saved you," Sirius whispered back, smelling the rain and herb-scented hair. So many years.

The other man looks at him for a moment, tired silver eyes meeting tearful ones.

"And then… I saved you…" he whispers, one hand raising to caress Sirius' cheek. "You look so handsome and strong now."

"You still look beautiful and perfect to me," Sirius replies, kissing the palm when it comes close to his face.

"You are my brother," Draco, Regulus, who cares about the name now, says, not removing his hand.

"I don't care," Sirius answers, grasping that pale hand in his own and kissing the bony knuckles. "I've loved you my whole life, and I've tortured myself knowing I could never have you, knowing I could never save you from him."

"I was ready to die knowing I was saving _you_ from him," Regulus murmurs, his nose caressing the skin of Sirius' neck, giving him goosebumps.

"I thought you would hate me if you found out," Sirius says, tightening his embrace. Regulus stares at him for a moment, an eternity in his eyes, before shaking his head slowly.

"Silly Siri," he says with a small, tender smile. "I could never hate you, I died for you."

"Can you learn to love me like I love you?" Sirius asks. "Can you stand to be by my side now that I can't bear to let you go again?"

Regulus grasps his older brother's face with both hands and gives his head into a deep, lustful kiss of his own, full of relief and promises of what is to come, what should have happened twenty years ago.

Sirius shudders in ecstasy, his lips and his tongue instantly invading those of his little brother, his little Regulus, the one person he has loved over anyone else.

His own flesh and blood.

He should feel sick and disgusted.

He should feel dirty and unworthy.

Regulus smiles at him, a kittenish lick is delivered to the very tip of his nose and those molten silver eyes lock with his own.

He only feels grateful.

"I love you, my Regulus," he says finally, letting his tears fall.

"I love you, my Sirius," Regulus replies, kissing the tears away. "Forever."

"Forever," Sirius agrees. Both sit by the fireplace, enjoying eachother's caresses and kisses as they plan the future. How they are going to explain that young Draco Malfoy has fallen in love with his older cousin, and how Sirius has found his absolution in the arms of the Malfoy heir. Narcissa and Lucius will never find out that their spell has been removed, the whole world will learn to smile at the happy couple.

Because while it is a sin for brothers to enjoy their twisted, sick and disgusting kind feelings, it's okay for cousins twice removed to fall in love.

And that's all they need to know.

The End.


End file.
